12 Lines

Write a post in just 12 lines --

I've been guided by numbers since October 1st.

October was 31 days of writing and I wrote 34 posts.

November 1st started NaNoWriMo -- write 50,000 words in 30 days.

I've got 5031 words written so far.

Right now I need to write 1799 words a day to finish on time.

I've been timing myself and can usually write 300 to 500 words in 15 minutes if all goes well.

I'm not used to thinking in terms of numbers with my writing. 

I write.

I don't count.

Counting is my husband's job (he's an actuary).

But for right now, I'm counting as I write.

And hoping the words I write will count somehow.

linking up with Writer's Workshop

RemembeRED -- Crash

Beautiful sunshine. Warm air. Happiness. CRASH! Something hits me in the back. Not something . . . someone. So unexpected, and yet why am I always surprised? Why don't I see it coming?

She whirls me around and begins to pummel me in the ribs with her fists. She is SO angry, and as always, I have no idea what I've done. She punches me in the ribs -- counting as her fists crash into my tiny body. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Why 8? Is her anger spent or is there some specific reason for that number?

She grabs me by the arm and drags me toward the chicken coop. She has threatened this before, but I didn't think she'd really do it? (Why not. Why don't I believe her threats by now? She generally follows through on them. Will she really drown me someday?)

She throws me in the chicken coop and tells me I have to stay for 5 hours. I am 5 years old. Is it 1 hour for every year of my existence?

"Cover your eyes, or the chickens will peck them out!" she yells as the door crashes shut. 

I am alone. Why am I always alone? 

for more stories go to RemembeRED Flash Memoir

Numbers

I am going to do this. My pink gym bag is packed with all the necessary gear: flippers, mask, goggles, and snorkel. I know I need to do this, for both of us. I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to let him down – again. 

The weather is nice for November. The car is pleasantly warm. I slip the new cd in and let the renaissance music fill the car. This could be fun and good. I need some fun and good. Things have been so hectic lately. Being sick, having sick kids and even he is sick now.

I notice what a beautiful day it is. The sun is shining in through the windshield warming me. Maybe once I master this new skill I’ll run a couple errands. I’m really feeling better . . . numbers? Numbers. NUMBERS!

Not now! Why do they always hit just when I’m starting to feel good? Why can’t it all just disappear?

Breathe. That’s the first thing they tell you to do. Breathe -- in deeply through the nose and out slowly through the nose. I am not crazy. It’s not happening now. We will deal with this. Bad thoughts are rushing through my head. Numbers. What is that about? Five, eight, twelve and fifteen – these are very bad numbers. Small animal skulls in a gift box. Water. The chicken coop. It’s her again. Invading my brain, and trying to drive me crazy. It’s not enough that she did these sick and disgusting things when I was a kid, but the memories keep invading my daily life.

I get to the YMCA and realize I have made it. The flashback was a really bad one, but I’m still here. She’s not going to stop me this time.

for more link up at Write on Edge